Grandpa

In my house, there lies a photo
of my grandpa holding flowers.
Though he died long ago
I still think of him with me at this hour
I have a dream, we're riding on his motorbike
tearing up the road
this I really like
until he goes slow
he stops at a coffee shop
he then lifts me into the air
"Joyce, bring the mop!"
my mum's voice blares
I look for my grandpa's face
He's gone without a trace